RINGO'S TEETH AND STAN LEE'S FINGERS

So I was particularly pleased when Fluharty announced the release of his splendid new collection of drawings, The Art of the Sketch. Looking through Fluharty's book, several lessons stand out.

I love this drawing of Ringo Starr:

It looks like it was drawn quickly, like the crack of a whip. Yet if you look more closely, you note that he paid attention to-- and drew-- each and every tooth individually.

You don't notice such details at first because Fluharty has the gift to capture them with a vigorous, energetic scribble rather
than the painful cross hatching or stippling that many meticulous draftsmen use to capture
details.

The point is not that Fluharty makes highly detailed drawings-- to the contrary, he often ignores major details.

The point is that Fluharty notices such details; when Fluharty has a pencil in his hand, not one feather falls from a sparrow unnoticed. And from that wealth of observations, he judiciously selects the details he thinks are important. In the drawing of Ringo, that smile is the centerpiece and Fluharty apparently felt that those ungainly teeth were worth the additional effort. We may not be conscious of them, but such details contribute a lot.

You see similar attention in this more finished drawing of Stan Lee.

Look at how much imagination Fluharty has invested in those gnarled old fingers still striking the "spidey" pose:

Or check out the wringing hands in this drawing of Hillary Clinton...

In both cases, you can tell that Fluharty decided that hands would be an important part of the story, and went back to add them to his drawing.

This is a fine collection of working drawings, and one that I enjoyed thoroughly.

I've always loved the way Mr.Fluharty balances, what seems to me, classicism with a seemingly-Pixar inspired materiality -- bordering on full-out squash and stretch.

E.g. Ringo's going into stretch as his head becomes erect, the radial jitter on Stan Lee's face, the Muppet-y fabric on bone feeling of Lee's hands and Clinton's face, and the Maya-rendering gelatinousness of Clinton's hands.

Yet, all upheld by, at times, a Flemish inspired rendering, or the pencil-work flair and brevity of a early 20th century illustrator.

Quite a virtuosic smorgasbord of call-backs and illusions, but brought together in a way that is totally his own, and quite seamless.